


War, Peace and Tarkalean Tea

by Toinette93



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: As in: they talk about War and Peace at lunch, Dialogue Heavy, Discussion, Does contain spoilers for War and Peace, Garak doesn't like Tolstoy, Gen, Literature, No Beta, Post-Episode: s02e22 The Wire, Pre- Episode S5e16 Doctor Bashir I Presume, Silly, War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy - Freeform, but it's really not the focus here, could be read as pre-slash, or does he?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25530727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93
Summary: "Garak had to admit that this Tolstoy fellow had managed to get him invested enough in his story to be quite violently annoyed at the stupidity of his characters. "---Garak and Bashir discuss War and Peace at lunch. That's the whole thing really
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	War, Peace and Tarkalean Tea

Garak, on his way to the replimat, had to admit to a certain degree of puzzlement as to the intention of his habitual lunch partner in giving him to read the latest book in their weekly literary discussions. The doctor had assured him the book was probably one of humanity’s best equivalent to Cardassia’s repetitive epic, as far as dimensions and ambitions went, but with actual character development. If the dimension was measured in length, there was certainly something to say for the book, but the whole thing had largely baffled Garak, who, also had had to go into a considerable amount of research to understand whole parts of it. The whole business about the number of the beast had left him quite puzzled. And the naming conventions of these characters where so absurd. Even with his trained memory, he had still confused them.

Quite a few time during his reading of the massive volume – and to think people would have actually printed that, on paper – he had wondered if the doctor had been, what was the human expression again, pulling his leg, but it did not sound like Bashir to do something like that, and the expression on the doctor’s face when giving him the data-rod containing the book had been even beyond his common enthusiasm mixed with amusement. Bashir was obviously eager to get his opinion on a book he himself loved. And Garak had to admit that this Tolstoy fellow had managed to get him invested enough in his story to be quite violently annoyed at the stupidity of his characters.

Garak had been turning these thoughts in his head while seating in the replimat, preparing for his argument with the doctor, and had started to wonder if the physician would show his face at all as it was getting quite late, when the young man came hurrying in apologetic smile on his face:

“I’m so sorry Garak, there was an emergency in the infirmary, just before lunch break, and I had to stay to mend a few broken bones, and rather nasty gashes, can you believe somebody in that Bolian freighter managed to leave a maintenance tube open **and** all safeties off? Thankfully, no one was killed, but it was quite a close call for that one man and...”

Bashir kept on rambling, and soon moved  on from that particular case to recent innovations in burn treatments, while they waited in line to get their food. Garak was listening to his young friend with a smile,  the endless pit of excitement and enthusiasm that was the young doctor almost never failed to amuse him, even against his best judgement. They sat down, and Bashir, suddenly noticing he had been talking for quite some time, stopped with a bashful smile and said:

“All this to say, I’m sorry I’m late, and thank you for waiting for me.”

“But of course, my dear doctor, you do have your duties as chief medical officer of the station.”

“Yes, I suppose I do.”, he said, and they had both begun to eat. “How are you, Garak?” he asked, looking into the eyes of the Cardassian in front of him, searching, still, for some sort of truthful answer that he knew he’d probably never find there. 

Garak noticed the touch of earnestness in the question, the concern – or was it pity – that had never quite disappeared since that incident with the wire a couple of months before.  He was annoyed at the doctor’s insistence to insert himself in his affairs, but could not entirely deny that a part of him what quite fond of him for it.  Besides, he had to admit the treatment Bashir had given him for his lingering headaches had made things better, and his answer was less of a lie than it usually was. 

“I’m quite alright, doctor, thank you. I hope you are too?”

Bashir nodded. Before the doctor could add anything, Garak put the data-rod containing the novel he had just read on the table. Taking a sip of his Tarkalean tea, Bashir smiled, his eyes crinkling in anticipation, and he asked. 

“So, my did you think of War and Peace? Quite epic, don’t you think?”

“Well, I would not call it that. Although it gave quite the on look on your species’ more aggressive tendencies. And I could almost appreciate some of his reflexions on the futility of individual action if it wasn’t so uselessly demonstrative and convoluted.”

B ashir scoffed at Garak calling Tolstoy convoluted, that was rich, really coming from him, but he did not argue. The whole part of War and Peace discussing the nature of history and providence had never been his favorite, and he was not even sure he had actually read the whole epilogue. He let Garak go on.

“But really, my dear doctor, the whole story makes very little sense, and the characters are completely ridiculous, they have no sense of the common good, and even I find that they sacrifice their personal happiness, which you terrans seem to value so much for the stupidest of reasons. And they certainly are no examples of any kind.”

“Really, Garak, you are exaggerating. You have some of the most complex characters of human literature, they have to fight and think through every decision they make, and how they are tossed in the background events bigger than them is what makes for so fascinating characters, especially because they are no monolithic examples of virtues.”

“Or competence. The main character is really the most ridiculous of them all. This Pierre whose sole preoccupation seems to be to loose his head to empty fantasies, who wouldn’t know how to make a decision to save his life, and who can’t even spell his own name right, is supposed to be a gripping protagonist.”

That last thing,  beside the fact that it was not true of the character, stung Bashir a bit. His 6-year-old self had had trouble spelling his own name too, before… But Garak had no way to know that and besides, even if the socially awkward, lost in his world Pierre always had a bit of a special place in the doctor’s heart, he sometimes found him quite ridiculous and boring too. 

“He’s a good man who lacks strength of character and has trouble escaping his surroundings, and the whole point of the story is that he is imperfect, and conflicted. But, all right I’ll even admit he’s not my favorite character sometimes either. But I know you are not immune to beautiful love stories, and even you cannot have not been moved by the story of Natasha and Andrei, right?”

“This is one of the most ridiculous stories I have ever read, my dear doctor. I can’t fathom what they find in each other. Natasha is a young idiot whose sole occupation seems to be crying about everything and thinking nothing through, and Andrei who’s supposed to be an intelligent man cannot solve the simplest problems and keeps on being sidetracked by his own pride. Neither have any sense of service to the state, and they really are quite parasitic. Which I guess makes them well suited to each other. And the other characters are no better. At leas Sonia, Maria and Nicolas have some sense of sacrifice but for completely fanciful reasons, and those that do serve the state like Berg and Boris have no moral fiber whatsoever. I really don’t see what you can like in this novel.”

“The tragic of Natasha and Andrei only finding each other when it’s too late, and because it’s too late? The masterful equilibrium between the history as a whole and every character that changes and evolves? All the reflexion Tolstoy brings to it?”

Bashir was both desperate and quite happy about the argument. 

“Come on, Garak, don’t tell me you did not find the description of the emotions before the battle, and all the scene very real and a good representation of the complicated reasons why people give their lives for something? Surely it’s truer to reality that your Cardassian epics bland devotion to the state?”

“There is nothing bland about the way Cardassian epic show the importance of devotion to the state doctor, the way in which the conflict between personal aspirations and duty is repeated again and again shows how much of a fundamental fact of life it is, how this personal sacrifice is not only personal in nature, and the way in which each character repeats it, despite their personal circumstances shows the strength of the Cardassian ethics. You really have to be blinded by your Federation ideology not to see it, my dear doctor. I’ll admit that the wait before a battle was somewhat well depicted, but I had trouble caring about characters that were acting so stupidly the entire time. And really, doctor, you can’t possibly approve of the light in which your profession was shown in this opus, surely you wouldn’t want me to think the whole history of your colleague was made of useless barbarians?

As  Bashir was preparing to answer that – and it did look like he had a lot to say – his  combadge chimed. 

“Ops to doctor Bashir.”

Bashir sent Garak an apologetic look and answered. 

“Bashir here.”

“You’re needed in docking bay 3, doctor. There’s a Lissepian ship coming in with cases of an as-yet unidentified sickness on board, and they need you for quarantine and decontamination procedures.”

“On my way, Bashir out”, then turning to Garak “I’m sorry, Garak, duty calls, will you send the book you want me to read next to my padd? Same time next week?”

“Of course doctor. I’d also be quite happy to finish this discussion about this War and Peace of yours.”

“Come to dinner? Day after tomorrow? Meet me at the end of my shift?”

Garak nodded, although the invitation was quite unusual. Before he had any time to ponder it, though,  Bashir was gone, picking up his tray for recycling. Garak watched him leave,  and then went back to his own shop, a smile on his face, prompting a grunt from Odo on his way. The security officer thought than one could always tell when Garak had seen the doctor. Not very stealthy for an alleged spy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello people !  
> Hope you enjoyed this little thing!   
> This is the first thing I've managed to write in quite a bit, and I know it's not very good but I really wanted to write something to get back into the saddle so to speak. Also, first fic in DS9, yeah!  
> This is the result of falling in love with DS9 and re-reading War and Peace. To make things clear, I love that book. I re-reread it periodically and it's one of my favourite ever. But it's also extremely infuriating, and I do want to punch Tolstoy in the face a few times along the way ! Come talk to me in the comments about it !  
> And do tell me if there is anything more you think I should tag.   
> Cheers !  
> Toinette


End file.
